Me, too, but not our dog Bella. What's on her mind? Halloween at the White House.

I know because we had one of our imaginary heart-to-hearts as we walked past neighbors' homes already lit in seasonal orange, green and purple.

This gentle, black and tan hound -- with forgiving eyes and fangs even Dracula would envy -- has made Halloween her navigational star. She enjoys this holiday more than any dog I've ever called my own -- more than Scamp, Lady, Dusty, Mike, Minnie, Luv, Chip and Sophie combined.

On Tuesday she'll wear her cape and pointy hat, plant her long legs and paws on the vestibule rug and stare at the glass door like Egypt's Great Sphinx waiting for the return of ancient UFOs. She'll stand and wag only when trick-or-treaters shuffle up our walk, giving them a sniff of approval with her long nose as little fingers mine for nuggets of candy.

That's why it's no small botheration to Bella that the President has yet to fill a very important post --that of First Pet. (Even Putin has a puppy.)

How can the Leader of the Free World celebrate Halloween if he doesn't have a dog to greet all the little action heroes, Elsas -- and is that Steve Bannon dressed as Kid Rock?

Does this mean the White House -- unlike our gray house -- won't have witches flying across the garage door via a motion device on sale for $17.99 at Target?

And did Sarah Huckabee Sanders remember to buy Milky Ways or just Snickers, 5th Avenue bars and Paydays?

Bella is convinced more Americans would throw the Prez a bone (boost his likability) if he'd curl up at night with a dog instead of dogging people with tweets.

True, Franklin D. Roosevelt took flak for sending a Navy destroyer to fetch his Scottish Terrier, Fala, left behind in the Aleutian Islands. But FDR was elected four times (oops, wrong message). And Harry Truman famously said: "If you want a friend in Washington, get a pet."

Why break precedent? John F. Kennedy had a pony named Macaroni, Bill Clinton a cat named Socks and the White House has seen tiger cubs, parrots, goats, rabbits, even an alligator. Richard Nixon went on TV during the 1952 campaign to insist the only gift he received was his dog Checkers.

I assured Bella that no matter what goes down in Washington, the spirit of Halloween will endure at our house, just as it has since I was a boy carrying a torch for Frankenstein's monster or when I was a homemade pirate stashing his sugary treasures in an old pillow case.

I told Bella we'd buy a green fog machine or play "Transylvania Twist" lyrics about a lonely vampire or have Linus on the lawn waiting for the Great Pumpkin. Too bad daughter-in-law Lara Trump sold out of those orange Make America Great Again hats (with a jack-o-lantern emblem) she's been selling for $45.

I even pitched a "Zombie Goes to the Prom" theme with Carrie's bloody hand reaching up from the grave, but Bella yawned.

What's this? You have an idea, Bella? You want ME to dress up like Miss Trunchbull from "Matilda," the movie headmistress so utterly mean she used kids for shotput practice?